


So Why Don't You Come On Over, Valerie

by robpatFF



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-04
Updated: 2012-06-04
Packaged: 2017-11-06 19:11:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/422209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robpatFF/pseuds/robpatFF
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry's afraid of thunderstorms.</p>
            </blockquote>





	So Why Don't You Come On Over, Valerie

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own anything. Nothing. One Direction is owned by the devil, not me. This isn't real and I'm pretty sure it's never happened. Sigh.

It rains the entire week they get a break. Fat drops of water sliding off the roof and knocking against the cars and grass and every available surface. Harry presses his face against the glass, the cool surface providing relief to his headache and calming the jittery nerves that still run through him even though they haven’t done a show in days.

He peers outside the window, squinting through the darkness. It’s late, or early, rather, and even Louis went to bed hours ago. Harry wraps the comforter around him, shuffling over to the couch. His eyes are drooping, dry with exhaustion, but his body’s so wired that all he can do is stare blankly at the television. 

The first crack of thunder comes. 

Harry jumps, becoming a bit more alert. He wraps himself a little tighter, shuddering a bit underneath the scratchy blanket. He turns the volume up and tries to focus on the mindless cartoons blaring at him. 

Harry feels himself start to drift finally, sleep settling over him slowly. His eyes flutter shut, bright spots of light from the television flashing beneath his eyelids. 

The second jolt of thunder comes, blasting through the silence. Harry’s eyes pop open, and he grumbles out a curse and goes to the window to look. The rain is coming down in rivets now, pounding against the pavement and the window glass. Thunder rumbles again, louder, closer.

Harry stares through the glass, contemplating going up to his bed and trying to sleep through the noise. But the next crash of sound comes with bright, flashing lightning, splitting the dark at the seams. 

It’s a continuous stream now, the thunder and lightning, disrupting the still silence of the room and setting Harry’s already frayed nerves even more on edge. He’s hyper-aware of the scratch of the blanket against his skin, rough and uncomfortable. The lightning sparks white-hot, casting the room in an eerie glow every few minutes.

There’s no way Harry’s going in his room. 

He pads down the hallway to Louis’ room, avoiding the creak in the hardwood floor and peering in through the cracked door. It’s pitch black and quiet save the muted sound of Louis’ breathing, the slight snuffle he makes when he turns over and burrows under his covers.

Harry climbs into the bed, positioning himself so he hovers over Louis, staring at the side of his face.

“Louis,” he whispers. He leans in closer, mouth almost touching skin. “Boo Bear.”

Harry slides down under the covers, immediately comforted by the warmth emitting from Louis’ body. He gets himself comfortable and settles.

And rams his elbow into Louis’ back.

Harry hides a smile in the pillow when Louis jolts awake, hair lying haphazardly across his forehead and eyes half-lidded with sleep. 

“Hazza?” Louis mumbles, shaking himself awake. “What are you doing?”

Harry doesn’t really know how to answer that. He knows he doesn’t want to be in his room alone, stuck listening to the sounds of nature wreaking havoc. “I wan’na have a snuggle,” he says instead, pushing Louis’ limbs out of the way and settling against his chest. 

Louis shifts to accommodate him, like Harry knew he would. His arm wraps around Harry’s back, a warm presence that almost feels like it could burn through Harry’s skin. 

“You wanted a snuggle at four in the morning?” Louis asks, voice fond. He checks his phone, the sudden light reminding Harry of the storm outside. He scoots closer to Louis, nose nuzzling against the warm skin on his neck. 

The thunder and lightning crack open the sky again and Harry can’t help the shiver that racks through him. Louis lets out a soft laugh, raspy and tired-sounding. “Really, Curly? Scared of a little rain?”

“‘m not scared,” Harry mumbles, voice muffled by the soft fabric of Louis’ t-shirt. Lightning bolts through the sky and Harry grips Louis’ t-shirt tight, fingers clenching. 

“Poor little Harry,” Louis teases, running his fingers up and down past the goosebumps that pop up on Harry’s arms. “This could be an exclusive, you know. I could sell this story.”

Harry knocks his head against Louis’ shoulder, a warning. “You’re a twat, you know,” he says.

“I’m your twat,” Louis returns, words stretched out by a yawn.

Harry nods into Louis’ shoulder, murmurs a quiet, “my darling little twat”. The thunder booms in the background, and Harry nudges Louis again, sensing he’s drifting off. “Distract me.”

“I could tell you a joke,” Louis starts, but Harry slaps a hand over his mouth, because Louis’ jokes are always absolute shit. “Then what?”

Harry shrugs, hides his face again. “Sing to me,” he suggests.

Louis scoffs, soft. “You hear me sing all the time.”

“Sing _Valerie_ ,” Harry demands, poking Louis in the side, following him when he squirms away. “Valerie, Valerie, Valerie,” he chants softly.

“God,” Louis breathes out. “You’re such a spoiled brat.”

Harry smiles, knows Louis can feel it. “So you’ll sing?”

“ _’Cause since I’ve come on home, well my body’s been a mess._ ” Harry smirks a little, pleased, and taps out the rhythm on the soft skin of Louis’ belly. “ _And I miss your ginger hair, and the way you like to dress. Won’t you come on over, stop making a fool outta me_ \--”

“ _So why don’t you come on over, Valerie_ ,” they both finish. 

“Sing something else,” Harry tells him, voice hushed, mouth forming words right against Louis’ skin. 

“Tired of singing, Haz,” Louis responds through another yawn.

“You’re doing a shit job of distracting me,” Harry tells him. His mouth settles on Louis’ collarbone, and he bites at it playfully, grins when Louis sucks in a breath. He shifts so he’s lying more on top of him, their hips aligned. 

Louis stares up at Harry, smile lurking at the corners of his mouth. “What do you want me to do?” 

The thunder is almost a background noise in comparison to their heavy breathing, the loud swallow Harry takes as he leans in closer to Louis. His skin prickles where they touch, flesh almost feverish with heat. The lightning comes again, flashes light onto Louis’ face for a moment, open and fond and a little curious.

“Harry?” he says, and Harry can’t help the way his eyes track the movement of Louis’ mouth, lips parting, slightly wet from where Louis has been licking them. “Alright, Hazza?”

“I want--” Harry cuts himself off, voice sticking in his throat. He doesn’t notice the thunder this time, just hears the loud hammering of his own heart, his blood pulsing in his ears. “Can you--?”

Louis surges forward and kisses Harry. It’s a soft thing, just their mouths sliding together in surprise mostly. Louis pulls back, and Harry pushes forward, a needy sound coming from him. He can feel Louis’ grin against his mouth, smug.

“Distracting enough for you?” he teases, gives a huff of laughter when Harry nips his bottom lip in retaliation. 

“Not nearly enough,” Harry tells him, and he grinds down and relishes the sharp intake of breath he hears. 

“ _Harry,_ ” Louis whispers, fingers digging into Harry’s hips, holding him in place. His mouth finds Harry’s again, a little more desperate this time. 

Harry’s hands fist into Louis’ shirt and drag him closer. He can’t help the little gasping sounds he makes when he feels Louis get hard underneath him, the insistent stream of, “Lou, Lou, _fuck_ , Lou,” that comes out throaty and a little hoarse.

Louis’ hands slide over the bare skin of Harry’s back, cool and gentle, soothing the flushed heat that’s taken over Harry’s body. Harry grinds down a little faster, harder, a spike of pleasure flashing through him like the lightning outside. He’s found a rhythm now, quick and almost dirty as he pushes down into Louis. 

Louis breaks the kiss, throws his head back a bit, and Harry takes advantage, bites at his neck. “Jesus Christ, Hazza,” Louis says, “are you trying to kill me?”

Harry nods, too focused on sucking a mark into Louis’ skin to answer any other way. His head is dizzy with it now, pleasure that feels like it’s been building up since he met Louis for the first time. Louis’ hands dig hard into Harry’s sides, sure to leave bruises that Harry will continue to touch, poke at the tender skin well past tonight to make sure this is real.

He hears Louis’ breath hitch and somehow knows he’s close. Harry speeds up a bit, breathing out his groans into the collar of Louis’ shirt, feels the vibrations in Louis’ chest when he starts to lose it.

“ _Fuck, Harry._ ” He shudders slightly, mouth going slack. Harry feels the aftershocks. He feels Louis’ fingers trembling against him, and he lets out a curse, struggling to keep some sort of composure as he gasps out his own release, Louis’ name falling from his mouth like he’s only done in private. Louis holds him tight through it, stroking Harry’s back and leaving kisses on his shoulder, his neck, his mouth. 

Harry collapses, breathing heavily and eyes already drooping. “I think I’m distracted,” he mumbles, and feels rather than hears Louis laugh. 

The thunder creaks through the sky again, and Harry sleeps through it, limbs tangled with blankets and sheet and Louis.


End file.
